


Birds and Bees

by reserve



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Advice From an Unexpected Quarter, Conversations, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:21:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26588812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reserve/pseuds/reserve
Summary: Ann Coulman calls on Francis Crozier for advice.
Relationships: Captain Francis Crozier/Sir James Clark Ross, Lady Ann Ross/Sir James Clark Ross, Sophia Cracroft & Captain Francis Crozier
Comments: 9
Kudos: 50
Collections: The Two Captains Fest 2020





	Birds and Bees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sadsparties](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadsparties/gifts).



> I absolutely love your work, sadsparties. I hope you enjoy this meagre offering.

The calling card was most unexpected, the caller even more so.

Francis Crozier held the piece of small, cream colored stock in hand and turned it over, then back again, as though it might reveal some hidden message or alchemic property. Alas, the card remained as it was when Francis first received it from the Franklins’ stout butler, handed to him on a silver platter held between two white gloved hands. The man had been a steward in his youth, and it showed in every spotless corner of the Franklin townhouse and the shipshape manner of the household staff. 

_Ann Coulman_ , read the front of the card with little adornment other than a flourish beneath its caller’s name. On the back, in Ann’s own hand, was a note in nearly illegible cursive: _Capt. Crozier, I hope you might have time for tea in the coming days before the wedding. It is my sincere hope to speak with you._

Very curious, and altogether an impossible request if Sir John had not prevailed upon him to accept his hospitality and a guestroom for the weeks before his forthcoming trip to the Continent.

A trip that would be a welcome relief from all things London, the Franklins included.

Francis flicked the front of the card with his finger, just for good measure, and set it down on the writing desk his borrowed room had come furnished with. He couldn’t very well refuse Miss Coulman. Not when she was the bride-to-be of his oldest and dearest friend, not when there was something James might need of him.

There was simply nothing for it. Francis would have to socialize.

He dug into his breast pocket for his own calling cards and found them rather worse for wear, but serviceable. It rankled, ever so slightly, to see his rank given as Commander, but he was not in the habit of calling, and one had no use for such fripperies on a frigate or a fireship. He was also not in the habit of spending money when money needn’t be spent. 13 shillings half-pay meant his old cards would have to do.

Before he could dwell on the words too heavily, or even the spelling, Francis dashed off a quick acceptance and asked Miss Coulman to visit three days hence. A Thursday afternoon. Sir John was due at Whitehall and Lady Jane would surely accompany him if only to fuss over his epaulettes in the carriage on the way over. Sophia would be home, which Francis was counting on. Her grace in mixed company had saved him on several occasions in Van Dieman’s Land, and he could rely on her to intervene if the situation became dire, not that he had any reason to believe that it would.

Francis surmised that his nerves just weren’t what they used to be, not if the prospect of tea with a genteel and winning young lady to whom he had no attachment whatsoever set his heart into a gallop and his palms to dampening. He rang for someone to collect the card and send it on its way before he tore it up and returned no reply at all.

xxx

Thursday arrived far too quickly, as things often did when one felt not an ounce of pleasant anticipation.

Sophia, for her part, had been thrilled to learn that they would be receiving a guest, and had arranged for a sumptuous tea in honor of Miss Coulman’s impending nuptials. She had even known, without Francis having to say a word, that she would be his second in this courtly duel.

“Say no more,” she’d said, when Francis had said nothing at all. 

As the appointed hour of Miss Coulman’s arrival neared, Francis grumblingly allowed Sophia to fuss over his cravat. He even took her, “Francis, _relax_ ,” in stride when she chastised him. “Think of her as your sister-in-law, if that will ease the day. Think of Captain Ross.”

“I have more than enough in the way of sisters,” Francis replied, glowering at his reflection in the entryway mirror and choosing to ignore the mention of James. 

Sophia sighed. She swept his hair off his brow, taking one of the little liberties he loved her for. “Then you’re accustomed to women,” she said, with an ever so slightly impish tilt to her pink mouth. “Fretting makes you look twice your age, do it less.”

“Aye, aye,” Francis said, aiming for levity and a smile less rictus than usual. He had never learned, in all his years on God’s green earth and in service, to pretend to enjoy the trivialities of life. It was a shortcoming that Sophia, and officers under whom he had served, reminded him often.

“There.” Sophia favored him with another cheeky smile. “You look far less dour.”

It was, at this moment, that the bell rang.

Miss Ann Coulman arrived in a swirl of skirts and fashionable afternoon dress. Her chestnut curls fell perfectly to her jawline beneath her bonnet, and her shoulders were covered by a delicate lace shawl.

“It’s so wonderful to see you, Captain Crozier,” she said, with a nervous air that Francis recognized as the demeanor of someone who wanted to please him. He’d experienced it often enough as an officer to know it anywhere.

“The pleasure is mine, Miss Coulman,” Francis said, taking her offered hand in a light hold and bowing slightly. “If I’m not mistaken, you and Miss Cracroft are already acquainted?”

“Please.” Miss Coulman smiled prettily at him; her teeth were just a little crooked. “Call me Ann. And yes. It has been far too long, Sophia.”

“It has!” Sophia agreed, also beaming. “You’ll have to give me half a decade’s gossip when the time comes.”

It stirred something in Francis, greeting Ann with Sophia by his side. His stomach tumbled, watching the two women shake hands and then giggle at the formality of it. They had, of course, met before but things would change once Ann Coulman was Lady Ross, and Francis thrilled slightly at the little pantomime before him, at playing house with Sophia however briefly. Perhaps, not long from now, Sophia could style herself as Lady Crozier, and greeting Ann would require no more than a kiss on the cheek before taking to the drawing room while he and James sipped cordial before dinner.

It was an all too beguiling fantasy. After all, only James had actually secured the hand of a lady present.

“Captain Crozier,” Ann said presently. “I hope you don’t mind if we—if we speak now.”

Francis looked between Ann and Sophia and took comfort when Sophia nodded her permission. He was her guest, and—he liked to think—her suitor. He would never want her to feel unwelcome or unsure while he sat alone with another woman.

“Of course, of course,” Francis said, taking his cue. “Let us.”

“I’ll join you in a little while,” Sophia promised. Her hand grazed Francis’ forearm, so brief and light it could have been his imagination. But he knew her, and he knew how adept she was at communicating with little more than a glancing touch.

xxx

  
“You must forgive me,” Ann said, once they were seated across from one another at a petticoated little table in the drawing room. Ann fussed with the tips of her gloved fingers. “I know this visit isn’t exactly the thing.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” said Francis, taken aback by the fidgeting and the acknowledgement of the oddity of their meeting. “James would—”

“James would be very surprised to find me here today.”

“Ah.” Francis peered at her. She was very pretty, that much wasn’t lost on him. Nervousness suited her.

They weren’t strangers to each other; James had made sure of that, hardly capable of going a sentence without mentioning Ann during the last expedition. A decade long courtship meant a decade’s worth of letters, some of which James had even shared with Francis. He knew Ann to be practical, clever, a woman with an adventuresome spirit if not the means for adventure. Exactly the sort of person his James would favor.

And James did favor her, with an ardor that Francis was deeply aware of. But that—that was neither here nor there, and certainly not the kind of thing one should think about when faced with the lady herself.

“I have a very peculiar favor to ask of you,” Ann said slowly. She took off her gloves, as though to keep herself from worrying at them and then proceeded to toy with the fingers of one hand with the other. “I hope you won’t think it terribly queer.”

“I’m a sailor.” Francis smiled. “A life at sea offers up a hundred and one odd things every day, each one stranger than the last.”

“That’s—” Ann laughed quietly, as Francis had intended. “That’s certainly what James would lead me to believe.”

“And he’d be correct.”

“Isn’t he always?” Ann wet her lower lip and Francis could sense it: how badly she wanted to be in his confidence. How much she wanted him to agree with her on this gentle jest at James’ expense.

“Indeed,” Francis said, warming to her. Letting himself warm to her.

“You are lucky,” Ann went on, once the moment had passed. She sounded more confident. “In nearly ten years James and I have seldom resided under one roof. Ours has been a courtship of words and occasional stolen moments. And even those—” She pursed her lips, clearly unsure how to go on.

Francis found himself sweating; could feel moisture at his temples, his lower back.

It was not only the implication of what he and Sophia meant to each other, it was—well, he had a terrible feeling he knew exactly what Ann was about to ask of him. 

“You _know_ James,” she said. “Far better than I.”

“Yes.” Francis swallowed. “As a friend. A messmate.”

Ann fixed him with a look that could have been borrowed directly from James Ross’ own repository of “disarm to kill” expressions.

“And more,” said Ann, carefully. “If my fiancé has been honest with me.”

“Miss Coulman, I—” Francis stuttered to a halt.

“I think Ann is more than appropriate. Considering the circumstances.”

“ _Ann,_ ” Francis tried again, teetering on the edge of desperation. It was—it was unthinkable, that James would break their confidence in such a way. Unthinkable that Ann, that this woman, to whom James was affianced, would say such things to him. Unthinkable, unconscionable, un…surprising. Francis felt the urge to flee leave him by degrees until he felt utterly deflated. Even his cravat seemed to wilt away from his throat.

“I’m not cross—” Ann said at the same time that Francis said, “mere child’s play.”

“Of course. The sea is lonely. I know all too well how lonely James was, but I know that you were there for him. And a friend for all seasons is a very special friend, in my book. It made me think—well, it made me think you might extend some of that same special friendship to me.”

“ _Jay-sus_.” 

Ann tittered at him. He must have looked a fright, likely red-faced, as he was wont to get when conversations took a wrong turn and kept going until they reached a cliff face. She tsked. She picked up a biscuit and put it down. “I don’t mean—”

‘Of course not.”

“I only.”

“We were lads, barely seaworthy,” said Francis, unable to stop himself, and thinking most ardently and horrifyingly that they were very much _not_ lads the last time it happened. When James has lifted his skirts and said, alluringly slurred, “what’s one more tumble, old man? Before all this draws to a close?”

Francis should have refused him. He should have begged off, feigned illness, anything but what he _actually_ did, which was lower himself to his knees, part his captain’s thighs, and feast.

“I’m afraid,” Ann burst forth at last. “Afraid I won’t know how to please him.”

“So you’ve come to me?” As what, Francis wondered. James’ former lover? His best friend? As _what_?

“I only hoped—”

“A bold lass,” Francis muttered, softening at the hurt look on her face, at her dove white hands still flitting about the table. She was a sweeter thing than Sophia. Sophia, who’d never known uncertainty in her life; who would also never know a stitch of what occurred between him and the dashing Captain James Clark Ross.

Perhaps that was the trade. Perhaps you could only choose between an equal, a lover, or a master.

“Very bold,” Francis repeated. 

“So James has said.”

“Do not fret.” Francis caught her hands with his and held them, gentle and steady. “Your James loves you. More than you can ever know. You could refuse him outright on your wedding night, and he’d go on loving you, maybe even more stridently. You could never disappoint him or displease him. No words from me could possibly aid you with a test impossible to fail.”

“Oh,” said Ann. She was glassy eyed. “Do you mean that?”

“I do.”

“Oh,” Ann said again. “Well.”

“James—” is leaving me, Francis nearly said. James is giving up the one thing he might love more than both of us: the sea. And he’s doing it for you. “James is an easy, affable person in all things,” he offered instead, hoping his point came across, his eyes on the chintz plates between them. “He’s an explorer, and it suits him. Very well.”

When he chanced a look at Ann again her cheeks had color and her eyes had a keen, lovely sharpness about the pupils. She’d taken his meaning.

“Hmmm,” she said, and then stuffed a biscuit in her mouth like not doing so would leave far too many questions with an open egress.

“I’ll find Sophia, shall I?” Francis stood, feeling unsteady and amused and charmed in a way he hadn’t expected. And also, he cursed himself, a trifle more melancholy than he’d like.

“Oh, do,” said Ann. “I promised gossip, although I do hope, Francis, that you trust me. With this.” She put her hand over her heart. “And I hope, that when you find yourself returned from the Continent, you’ll consider Eliot Place as home. For however long before the next voyage?”

Francis gazed at her, at her earnest little face, her perfect ringlets and long, graceful neck.

“If you wish it, I shall.”

“Good.” Ann reached for his hand once more and took it between her two. “I’m so glad we’ve had this chat.”


End file.
